<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>it never rains in southern california by evanillas</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276070">it never rains in southern california</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanillas/pseuds/evanillas'>evanillas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Meeting, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M, Minecraft, Romance, i am just. sobs. i am very proud of this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanillas/pseuds/evanillas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was overwhelmed with a sudden desire to tell Bad everything; he didn’t know what everything was, or what it entailed, just that Bad needed to know. He needed to know that...that…</p><p>Skeppy wanted to…</p><p>What the FUCK?!"<br/>━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━<br/>When Bad arrives in LA to visit Skeppy for his 21st birthday, Skeppy is forced to navigate his confusing feelings about his best friend, amidst a confusing bout of January rain that just doesn't seem to let up. As the week draws on, and his birthday draws nearer, Skeppy can't ignore it any longer. He has to do something. He has to talk to Bad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zak Ahmed &amp; Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it never rains in southern california</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Skeppy knew this was going to be a big moment, but...he didn’t expect this at all.</p><p>He didn’t expect the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach as he left for the airport to only grow as he silently drove through the January rain. He didn’t expect his appetite to dwindle the second he unwrapped his fast-food breakfast sandwich, didn’t expect the empty growl of his stomach as he set it down to focus on the road. He didn’t expect his racing mind to drown out every single song on his playlist, didn’t expect a million thoughts to speed in and out of consciousness as fast as the cars on the LA freeway.</p><p>Skeppy didn’t know why Bad had picked such an early flight anyway—and one with a layover at that. When Skeppy asked why he hadn’t just paid the extra money to come straight to LA, the man had said something about “getting to spend the whole day together.” It sounded appealing enough to Skeppy at first, but the melancholy rain and chilly breeze blowing outside had fully convinced him—this was a bad idea. Skeppy wasn’t exactly an “early bird,” preferring to spend lazy mornings in bed and build up energy for the late nights he spent recording videos and talking to friends.</p><p>
  <em> Friends. </em>
</p><p>That feeling...he’d been able to ignore it for just a moment, but it came back as fast as it had gone. As soon as he remembered where he was going. <em> Who </em>he was going to see.</p><p>It was about time he and Bad met up in person. They’d known each other for...what, two years now? To tell the truth, he and Bad had agreed to meet months ago. It was an easy decision to make—a text reading <em> we really should meet up </em> from Skeppy was immediately met with a chipper <em> We really should! </em> from Bad, and that was that. Sure, they’d talked about meeting up beforehand—going back and forth, yes, no, over and over, often in videos or on stream (to the frustration of their fans), but it had never felt as...personal. As real. It seemed like there was an unspoken agreement between the two— <em> this time is for real. This time we mean it. </em> </p><p>It was Bad’s idea to schedule the meetup around his birthday. Skeppy had protested at first—<em> it’s gross in LA in january </em> , read a late-night text. <em> you’ll hate it here </em></p><p><em> Aww, but I want to wish you a happy birthday in person! And don’t be silly, I’m sure LA is great in the winter, </em> Bad had responded. He wasn’t wrong—LA was usually nice in January, with clear, sunny skies and comfortably mild temperatures. Unfortunately, it seemed the city had other plans for the week of Skeppy’s twenty-first birthday. The sky was a dark, gloomy gray, and sheets of rain poured down on the highway as Skeppy approached the pick-up terminal. The weatherman said the rain would be gone by Wednesday, but even so, there was half of the week gone. LA was a great place to be, but so many of its most famous attractions—Venice Beach, Disneyland, the Hollywood sign—were best enjoyed on the bright, sunny, clear days so common in the city. Of course, they could always visit the museums—LA had a lot of those, too—which Bad might enjoy, but in the end, it was still <em> Skeppy’s </em>birthday, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck inside when there was so fun to have and so little time to have it.</p><p>As he drove up to the terminal, the <em> feeling </em>washed over him again. It was a strange sort of anxiety, a tightening and twisting and jumbling of all of his insides that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried to focus his mind on other things. Skeppy thought he’d be more excited for this, a day he’d been anticipating for at least a year now; and yes, he’d expected to have difficulty sleeping the night before Bad arrived, but he thought it’d be out of impatience, not...fear?</p><p>Fear wasn’t the right word either. Skeppy wasn’t <em> scared </em> . He’d known Bad for ages, there was nothing to be scared about. They’d fallen into a comfortable routine, a dynamic perfected over daily conversations and banter. It’s not that he thought it’d be any different in person—why would it be? There were just a lot of...little things that worried him. <em> What if he wants me to call him Darryl now? Do I hug him when I see him, or do I just…give him a handshake? What if I don’t recognize him right away at the baggage claim? </em>That last thought was nonsensical. Skeppy probably knew Bad’s face better than his own. The other man wasn’t the type to turn on his camera often, but whenever he did, Skeppy relished in it, taking in Bad’s shy smiles and awkward laughs with quiet happiness. </p><p>He smiled for the first time that morning as it hit him.<em> I’ll be able to see Bad’s face now. All the time. </em> It was odd to think about. He was too used to Bad’s disembodied voice yelling at him on a Discord call, or, occasionally, Bad’s elated face talking to him through FaceTime. But now...Bad would be there <em> always </em> . Not just in images, or a static shot on a stream; in under an hour, Bad would be sitting right next to him in the passenger's seat, laughing and talking and there and <em> real. </em> The thought made Skeppy’s stomach do somersaults, and he couldn’t help but tapping his feet in restless anticipation. <em> Bad. Real. </em></p><p>As he drew closer to the terminal, what had earlier been mild traffic was now a slow-moving line of cars, all trudging to the same destination. Skeppy couldn’t help but remember Bad’s texts to him the night before.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Just got to Denver! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow :) </em>
</p><p>
  <em> awesome! when does your flight land again? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I should be there by 9:30! What time are you going to leave to pick me up? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> uhhh i was thinking of leaving around 9? since i’m half an hour from the airport </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Skeppy!!! You have to leave earlier! There’s probably going to be traffic </em>
</p><p>
  <em> at 9? In january? on a WEDNESDAY? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Especially on a Wednesday </em>
</p><p> </p><p>To Bad’s credit, he’d been right. The Wednesday-morning traffic was more than Skeppy had expected, but he supposed people had places to be and things to do, regardless of the day of the week. He was lucky to have left when he did—though he took a while to get out of the house, it was now 9:10, and he’d only just barely arrived at the airport. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> but baaaad you’re already making me get up so earlyyyy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, come on. Leaving the house at 8:30 isn’t THAT hard ಠ_ಠ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> maybe for you, but i like my beauty sleep </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Okay then, Sleeping Beauty </em>
</p><p>
  <em> if i’m the beauty does that make you the beast </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He was proud of that one. </p><p>Finally, he found his way to the parking lot for Terminal A, where Bad said he’d be arriving. Surprisingly, despite the heavy traffic getting in, it didn’t take long for Skeppy to find a parking spot. It was a tight squeeze, but Skeppy’s car was small enough to fit in easily; having a big car in a city like LA was a nightmare, <em> especially </em> in situations like this. The terminal was an easy find, with numerous arrows pointing to clearly marked entrances and exits, which, in turn, were plastered with big, white-and-red signs reading “A.” Skeppy checked the watch on his wrist with a heavy exhale. <em> 9:20. I still have time.  </em></p><p>He walked at a brisk pace through the airport, the weight of the moment sinking into his head. <em> Bad. Ten minutes. Baggage claim 19. Real. </em> The <em> feeling </em> that he’d managed to get rid of was back in full force, but it was more...happy now. More anticipatory. The anxious worries flitting in and out of his mind had been replaced with a restless want, a <em> need </em> to see Bad in front of him. It was overpowering—a desperate ache that simultaneously bewildered and excited him.</p><p>It took Skeppy a while to actually <em> find </em> the baggage claim. He’d been to this airport before, of course—usually to pick up visiting friends and family, like today—but it was so big that he still had a little trouble navigating it. After scanning the busy hallway (could you even call it that?) a couple times, he spotted the small but bright sign (how hadn’t he noticed it before?) and nearly ran to it before his better judgment kicked in, settling for a hasty walk instead. <em> You’re not here to make a scene...not with all these people here. You’re just getting Bad and leaving. Easy as that </em>. </p><p><em> Easy my ass </em>. </p><p>His pulse quickened as the numbers passed through his peripheral vision. <em> 14, 15, 16... </em>there seemed to be a lot of flights arriving for such an early time. Skeppy figured it was because this was an international airport. There were people coming from all over the globe, and LA was a hot ticket in terms of destinations. But there was only one flight he cared about right now.</p><p>Only one person.</p><p>
  <em> 7:00 AM. DIA -&gt; LAX.  </em>
</p><p>The bright blue letters funneled across the screen, and Skeppy’s vision blurred. His mind raced. His stomach ached. He tapped his feet, staring anxiously at the conveyor belt that had only just begun to move and the few impatient passengers who had already made their way to the claim. But no Bad. </p><p>Three minutes passed. 9:34 AM. Bad was still nowhere in sight.</p><p>The minute that followed felt like an hour. 9:35 AM. Skeppy still didn’t see Bad.</p><p>By 9:36 AM, Skeppy wasn’t sure he wanted to wait anymore. <em> What if he never got on the plane? What if something happened to him during the flight? What if he decided he didn’t want to see me and didn’t even board the plane? What if he missed Rat so much that he just went home once he got to Denver? </em> The last one was a stretch, but Bad did love his little drama queen, and Skeppy wasn’t thinking logically, anyways. In fact, logic was the <em> least </em> of Skeppy’s concerns as his mind raced with what-ifs, all temporary but none positive. And then—empty. </p><p>Everything disappeared.</p><p>Because, rounding the corner up ahead, donning a dark grey hoodie, blue jeans, and a pair of worn-out sneakers, was Bad. </p><p>Skeppy could tell he had earbuds in—his contented smile was the same as it always was when he listened to music he liked. His warm-brown hair was messily combed—had he been in a rush to leave?—but it looked good, like always—effortlessly good. Skeppy envied Bad for that. His long “fluff” had always taken a while to style and shape, whereas Bad enjoyed a simple cropped cut, only occasionally letting it grow past his ears and frame his face with shaggy bangs. Skeppy teased him when his hair got like that, but in reality...he liked it. It looked...really, really good on his friend, something that he (embarrassingly) couldn’t help but notice the first time he saw it.</p><p><em> Now </em> Skeppy was scared.</p><p>He was scared because the moment he saw Bad round the corner, the moment he took in the hoodie, the sneakers, the hair, the <em> smile </em> , he was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with a million feelings that he didn’t have names for; overwhelmed with a wish, a want, a <em> need </em> to run over to his friend, to fling his arms around his waist, to hold him tight and never let him go, to tell him how much he had been waiting for today, how much he had been longing for today, how much he had been <em> yearning </em> for today. Overwhelmed with a sudden desire to tell Bad everything; he didn’t know what "everything" was, or what it entailed, just that Bad needed to know <em> . </em> He needed to know that...that…</p><p>Skeppy wanted to…</p><p>
  <em> What the FUCK?! </em>
</p><p>The last thought was the scariest at all. He pushed it out of his mind.</p><p>He did none of those things, opting to stand as still as a statue. <em> Maybe he won’t… </em></p><p>Nevermind. Bad’s gaze went to the baggage claim, Bad’s gaze went to <em> Skeppy, </em> and he lit up immediately. If Skeppy hadn’t been so shell-shocked from his own thoughts, he would have noticed Bad, wide-eyed, mouthing <em> Skeppy </em> before walking over to his friend as fast as his legs could carry him.</p><p>Bad looked up at Skeppy with a wide grin. He was brimming with happiness, and he was soft, and he was kind, and he was waiting. Waiting for Skeppy to break the heavy silence, waiting for the first choice, the first step, the first word. Though Skeppy’s mind was still racing, that didn’t stop him from contentedly noticing that he had a couple inches on the other man, who was probably a 5’5'' to his 5’7.” <em> Short, </em> he thought. <em> I could call him short. Good...good... </em> except that’s no way to start your first <em> real </em> conversation with your best friend. That’s not right. <em> That’s not how it’s supposed to be—not how I’m supposed to act with him, right? </em></p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>
  <em> OH MY FUCKING GOD. </em>
</p><p>He just did it. He just did the thing. “Hey,” he’d said. “Hey.” <em> That is so lame. That is lamer than lame. That’s lamer than calling him short, and that’s saying something. </em> </p><p>Bad seemed to find Skeppy’s visible frustration funny, letting out a small chuckle before replying. “Hey. Not how you thought you’d end up greeting me?”</p><p>“I was going to call you short,” Skeppy muttered, refusing to meet Bad’s gaze, “but I thought that would be too mean.” </p><p>“Too mean? Who are you and what have you done with Skeppy?” </p><p>Skeppy laughed stiffly. <em> What do I say what do I do what am I supposed to do I didn’t think it was going to be like this. </em> “Um...it’s still me. Same old Skeppy.” He cringed at his own reply. Bad seemed to sense the tension in Skeppy’s voice and softened a bit, nudging him playfully on the shoulder. </p><p>“Well then, I have nothing to worry about. But, just for the record, I am <em> not </em>short.” </p><p>
  <em> It’s okay. This is easy. Just like normal, right? The back and forth, the banter...you do this all the time. Just...be normal. Stop whatever the hell this is. Be normal . </em>
</p><p>“Keep telling yourself that, TinyBoyHalo.”</p><p>“SKEPPY! That’s not even FUNNY!” </p><p><em> Be </em> normal <em> .</em></p>
<hr/><p>The car ride home was just as awkward as their initial meeting.</p><p>They talked, sure, but it was nothing like what he’d imagined it to be. No exchanging stories, singing along to cheesy songs on the radio, excitedly debating exactly where they should go and what they should do during Bad’s week in LA. But now...though the drive wasn’t silent, they couldn’t seem to do anything but scratch the surface of a conversation.</p><p>“Sorry about the rain,” Skeppy mumbled as he drove out of the parking lot, “and the cold. It should pass by Wednesday if we’re lucky.”</p><p>“It’s actually...perfect,” Bad replied, looking out of the passenger window with a soft smile at the rain, now light and thin in contrast to the downpour of the early morning. “And I have no idea what you mean by "cold." It’s at <em> least </em>50 degrees here.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And, back home, it’s in the 30s right now. We’re even supposed to get snow Tuesday. Don’t get me wrong, snow is great and all, but…” Bad turned back to Skeppy, his smile becoming a bit forlorn as he laughed. “I’m a Florida guy at heart. Northeastern winters are way too cold for me.” </p><p>“Well then...you’re in luck. It rarely drops below 40 here.”</p><p>“Mmm. Good.” </p><p>Silence again.</p><p>It’s not that Skeppy was shy. He wasn’t reserved in the slightest—his friend knew that. He just wanted so, so many things right now, too many for his brain to process. He wanted to spill his guts to Bad, tell him each and every one of the worries that had been and still were plaguing him. He wanted to be squeezed in a tight, comforting hug, soothed by his best friend’s reassuring words. <em> Skeppy, of course I wanted to see you! Skeppy, it’s okay to be nervous. I’m nervous too. Skeppy, I’m so happy to be here. </em> But...he was still shocked by the electric sensation running through his body. Still wary of that <em> feeling </em>, the one that had overcome him when he’d first seen the other man, the one he’d barely been able to hold back. He didn’t know if he’d be able to if it happened again. And he didn’t want to risk making Bad feel responsible for the thoughts that had been consuming him ever since he woke up.</p><p>So he tiptoed around Bad and the cycle repeated. They’d have a small dialogue, going back and forth as they drove through gray skies and open roads. They talked about petty things—the weather (Bad thought it was nice; Skeppy thought otherwise), Bad’s flight in (it was good, but the woman sitting next to him typed so loudly on her laptop that he couldn’t sleep), Bad’s worries about his dog (he would have taken Rat on the plane if he could, but six hours in the air would probably have been too much for her). Skeppy could tell the other was a little disappointed by the sporadic conversation, and he willed himself to say something, to <em> do </em> something, to make them fall back into their casual dynamic, the one he’d grown so used to, but he couldn’t seem to get past affirmative nods and quiet comments. It was weirder than he’d thought it would be. <em> Harder </em>than he’d thought it would be. </p><p>After their fourth or fifth back-and-forth, the car fell silent yet again. Skeppy sighed and exited the highway, following the route back to his place with a practiced precision, his mouth glued shut and his eyes glued ahead of him. The silence persisted. Another thing—he had learned for the first time today that silence was <em> loud. </em> It was such an ironic thing to think about, but it was true—the deep, empty silence was difficult to ignore, and even more difficult to break. To Skeppy’s luck, Bad had initiated most of their conversations so far, perking up every few minutes as he chipperly brought up a new topic, a new point of discussion, something, <em> anything </em>to talk about, but most of those had eventually dwindled out, returning them to the uncomfortable silence they now sat in.</p><p>But this silence...was longer than usual. Normally by now, Bad would have made a teasing comment, an attempt to get Skeppy to crack a smile, but the car was dead quiet, the only sounds the gentle hum of the heater and the muffled <em> pitter-patter </em> of the rain outside. <em> I bet he’s... </em>A quick glance at Bad was all Skeppy needed to confirm his theory; the other was falling asleep. He was slumped on the window, propped up by the armrest with his hoodie acting as a cushion. His eyes were heavy-lidded, a peaceful expression on his face, and Skeppy couldn’t help but envy how content he seemed. </p><p>“Need a nap?” he quipped under his breath, receiving a frustrated grumble from his friend.</p><p>“Noooo. I’m just a little sleepy, that’s all.”</p><p>“Sleepy? But I thought you <em> liked </em> getting up early.”</p><p>“Skeppy…”</p><p>“I mean, I know you’re old, but I didn’t think you’d get tired <em> that </em>easily.”</p><p>“<em> Skeppy!” </em></p><p>Bad was wide awake now, wearing that familiar scowl, the one he always gave you when he was upset, but not <em> really </em> . The ease of it all made Skeppy smile. <em> That’s more like it. </em> That’s <em> the Bad I know. </em> As Bad glared pointedly at Skeppy, all in a huff, Skeppy noticed the bags under his eyes for the first time. The genuine exhaustion in his voice. The way he’d so easily, so comfortably slipped into silence as the rain cascaded down on the car. <em> Is he okay? </em></p><p>“Hey...for real, though. If you need to take a nap when we get to my place, that’s fine with me. Plane rides are exhausting.”</p><p>Bad seemed wary, searching Skeppy’s face for a hint of sarcasm. Skeppy could tell the other didn’t trust the offer fully—didn’t want to walk right into some kind of joke, or mockery—but he did his best to maintain a sincere smile. <em> Really. If you need to rest...I’ll let you. </em>Eventually, Bad must have decided he was being sincere—his tired eyes softened a bit as he nestled back into the comfort of the armrest, tracing a stray raindrop down the cold glass with a yawn.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>As he watched the other drift peacefully off to sleep, Skeppy continued the drive to his house with a newfound lightness. The rain didn’t seem so gloomy anymore, the chill in the air suddenly more refreshing than cold. A smile slipped onto his lips—an idiotic grin that just kept getting wider by the second. It was as if it had just sunk in: Bad was here, Bad was <em> finally </em> here, and Bad was real. Skeppy’s mind couldn’t stop racing with the plans he’d made for the week; they had so much to do, and so little time to do it. He only had one shot. Only one chance to get this right. As he thought back to the awkward start of the day, he shook his head with a grimace. <em> I can’t do that again. Can’t </em> be <em> like that again. </em> Skeppy shot a glance at Bad’s sleeping form in the seat next to him. <em> He deserves better. He deserves to have fun. </em></p><p>
  <em> I’ll make sure of it.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>He was trying. He really was trying.</p><p>It had gone somewhat smoothly so far. Though the rain hadn’t shown any sign of stopping, it provided a nice background noise to the chaos that was Skeppy’s head. The second they’d stepped into the house, he was suddenly hyper-aware of how much of a mess everything was. He’d tried to clean up before Bad came, but he’d eventually given up; the act felt like such a chore compared to the usually exciting whirlwind that was his day. Looking around, Skeppy had realized that he probably should have tidied a bit more—he was greeted by unfinished piles of laundry on the living room floor, a half-washed stack of dishes in the sink, and a few blankets strewn over the couch from his Netflix binge the previous night. It wasn’t <em> horrible </em>—in fact, Skeppy’s house was usually messier than this—but his cheeks had burned with embarrassment as he ushered Bad in through the front door. Luckily, the other didn’t seem to notice the mess; that, or he didn’t care. All he’d done was rub his eyes with a faint yawn and ask where the bathroom was.</p><p>And so the day went. They made small talk, better than that in the car, but Skeppy couldn’t help but notice that Bad seemed...restrained. He could just be tired, true, but by this point, the eager warmth that had filled his eyes at the airport was gone, replaced by an uncomfortable stiffness that Skeppy despised. Skeppy tried his best to hold a conversation, to playfully poke and prod at Bad as he always did, but his teasing was quieter, uttered with less confidence than usual, and he figured Bad could sense that, responding with clipped laughter and diffident reprimands rather than his usual playful frustration.</p><p>Bad had politely informed Skeppy that he’d like to rest on the couch for a while—he was still tired from his flight in—so Skeppy’d taken the opportunity to film a video for his YouTube channel. It was difficult to focus on the Bed Wars game in front of him while keeping up his usual energetic persona, especially when so many worries flooded his head, but somehow he managed to push through and get some decent material. <em> It isn’t that special, but it’ll work. It’s...the best I can do right now. </em> He’d already sunk himself deep into editing when he checked the time and silently cursed himself. <em> 1:30...fuck. </em> Skeppy had started filming the video at...11:30, right? <em> Fuuuck. Bad’s probably awake by now. </em></p><p>Skeppy rushed out of his room as fast as he could, nearly tumbling down the staircase, to find Bad propped up on the couch, staring forlornly out the rainy windows in front of him. The man didn’t seem to notice Skeppy's entrance; he was fixated on the rain outside, sinking into the couch with a quiet sigh. Bad seemed a bit less tired than before—he’d been able to sleep a bit, Skeppy hoped—and all rigidity was gone from his body, a comfortable familiarity to the way he huddled up against the arm of the couch. He’d covered himself in one of the blankets Skeppy’d left out, a warm, faint smile across his face. Bad looked all at once firm but soft, strong but gentle. He was, in the most simple way possible, himself. He was <em> himself, </em> and he was incredible, and he was <em> right there </em>, and the thought just made Skeppy want to...</p><p>Want to…</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Fuuuuuck</strong>. </em>
</p><p>It was startling, really. He thought he’d gotten <em> rid </em> of that thought, pushed it out of his mind until it wasn’t even a consideration anymore. Still, it was there, and it was stronger than it’d been earlier. Apparently, it was strong enough to make him trip over the low stair leading to the living room. Strong enough to turn what should have been a small trip into a full-on fall; strong enough to make him stumble over his own feet while his mind stumbled to find an excuse for what the hell just happened, what the <em> hell </em> just came into his head. </p><p>Skeppy’d never been more thankful for his good reflexes. He somehow managed to stop himself from crashing to the ground, his right arm shooting out in front of him to prevent his entire body from collapsing to the floor. <em> Close one. </em>He pushed himself off the ground with a grunt as he quickly rushed to his feet, hoping that somehow Bad hadn’t noticed his little flounder. Unfortunately, compared to the previous dead silence of the house, his fall was still quite loud, and Bad’s head whipped to the side with alarm. </p><p>Just like that, the rain’s trance broke. The tranquil silence that Skeppy’d tried so hard to maintain was shattered in an instant, Bad’s limbs going rigid as he saw Skeppy heaving himself off of the floor with a grunt. Bad shot to his feet, darting over to the other man, words pouring out of his mouth, <em> are-you-okay </em> s, <em> what-were-you-doing </em> s. Skeppy could only catch the loose beginnings and tail-ends of sentences as he stared at the ground, his mind buzzing with a million thoughts, each clamoring for attention in his head. <em> Again. It happened again. </em>He blinked a few times, trying to push the thought away, trying to forget he’d even had it, but no matter what he did, it wouldn’t leave his mind. </p><p>“Skeppy!” His name rang out loud and clear throughout the room, snapping him back to reality. Eyes darting up, he spotted Bad’s worried face right next to him, eyebrows knit together, a tight, pained expression marking his face. “Skeppy, are you okay?”</p><p>“Oh? Uh...yeah. Don't worry. I'm...fine.”</p><p>“It's just. Um" He stumbles over his words. "You seem...preoccupied?”</p><p>“Oh. Uh. Nope. Just wanted to check on you. Sorry I was gone for so long.” He tried his best to keep his voice level, his mind still racing. </p><p>“Oh! Oh. It’s...fine. I…” Bad gestured to the couch with a forced smile, “slept a little.”</p><p>“Good. Great.”</p><p>Skeppy could feel Bad’s eyes searching his expression, looking for something, <em> anything </em> to clue him in on the other man’s feelings. But Skeppy was determined to keep his face as stiff as stone. He couldn’t let it show that his heart was pounding, that his stomach was turning and tumbling, that his mind screamed a million words he wanted to say but didn’t. <em> Couldn’t. </em></p><p>Skeppy was determined not to let any of it show.</p><p>He must have done a good job, because Bad gave him another once-over and frowned with a small huff, his eyebrows knitting tighter together as he paced back over to the couch. He sat down quickly, his feet planted solidify on the ground, his hands resting firmly on his thighs, his stare fixed on the window, just like before. Yet...whereas before he’d been deep in comfort, now, his body seemed to barely touch the couch; tense, rigid, on-edge. Skeppy’s mouth opened to apologize, to comfort, to <em> fix, </em> because what else was he supposed to do? He felt like he had to, like he needed to. Bad seemed so fraught that the words flooded his mind immediately: <em> I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry </em> . No matter what he did wrong, even if he didn’t know what it was, Skeppy always apologized. But what was the point now? What had he done wrong? He couldn’t tell. What would apologizing even do? He didn’t know. But he felt the urge to do it, to scream the words over and over and over until they made something, <em> anything </em> , better, until they quelled the feeling inside of him, until they <b> <em>broke </em> </b>the wretched silence hanging between the two of them that Skeppy so despised.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>But it came from Bad’s mouth, not Skeppy’s.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he blurted out again, clenching his fists tighter, staring straight down, not looking up. Skeppy walked closer.</p><p>“What do you mean, you’re sorry?”</p><p>“Skeppy, can you be honest with me?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Are you...are you mad? At me?” Bad looked up at Skeppy, forcing the words out with a grimace.</p><p>
  <em> What?! </em>
</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“I just—ever since I got here, it’s been...weird.” A pained laugh escaped his lips as he continued. “Like, at the airport, when you first saw me. You kind of...froze up? And in the car, and when we got to the house, and just now. I kept trying to ignore it, but it seemed like every time you talked...I don’t know.” Bad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It seemed like something was wrong. Like you were upset.”</p><p><em> Upset? </em> He’d been distant, sure, but he didn't think Bad would have interpreted it that way. He didn’t <em> think </em>. As usual.</p><p>“And then, I figured, what if he’s mad at <em> me? </em> What if I did something wrong, what if it’s <em> my </em> fault? What if he doesn’t even want me here?” Bad rambled, his eyes clenching shut, “What if he wishes he was with someone else on his birthday, someone more fun, in someplace like...I don’t know, Las Vegas,” he laughed bitterly, “drinking and partying and doing all of the things that I <em> don’t </em> do because I’m not <em> that </em> friend, I’m just boring Bad, I’m just <em> me. </em> And,” he continued, calming down a bit, “it sounds so <em> stupid </em> when I say it out loud, and I <em> know </em> it does, but when you acted like that I didn’t know <em> what </em> to think, I didn’t —”</p><p>Skeppy placed his hand on Bad’s shoulder. “Bad.”</p><p>The other man stopped talking, his intense stare meeting Skeppy’s, his eyes starting to well up with tears. “Yeah?”</p><p>“I’m not...I’m not mad at you. I couldn’t be.”</p><p>“But something <em> is </em> wrong, isn’t it? Did I...did I <em> do </em>something wrong?”</p><p>“Bad<em> , </em> you don’t need to...to drink, or party, for me to like spending time with you. There’s no one else I’d rather have here, I promise. <em> You’re </em> my best friend. And...I just... <em> Bad.” </em> He couldn’t keep himself from laughing as the irony of the situation sunk in. In trying to create the best possible trip for his friend, Skeppy’d only succeeded in making Bad believe that he was <em> mad </em>at him, making him think he wasn’t wanted, when the truth was the absolute opposite.</p><p>“What’s so funny?”</p><p>“I’m...I’m sorry. It’s just....I’ve been so worried this whole time.”</p><p>“Worried? Why?”</p><p>“Well...when you saw me at the airport, I froze up? Right?”</p><p>Bad nodded.</p><p>“It’s...god, it’s dumb, really. You know, I’ve been so excited all week. And nervous. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was going to do once I saw you for the first time. What <em> we </em>were going to do.” </p><p>“Me too. I...didn’t sleep much last night.”</p><p><em> So that’s why he was tired. </em> Knowing Bad had been just as excited as he was filled Skeppy with a strange confidence, a newfound boldness that he hadn’t had before. <em> He was thinking about today. About me. </em></p><p>“Anyway, once I started driving to the airport, I was so nervous that I could barely even think. And...when I saw you there? At the baggage claim? Something...hit me. All of a sudden. It was like all of my anxieties about seeing you were taking over at once. I just...didn’t know what to say. Or do. I felt awful, Bad, because when we talked I knew I sounded stiff, and awkward, and uncomfortable. But, when I saw you at the airport, I...I...”</p><p>The truth tumbled out of his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying.</p><p>“I think I kind of wanted to kiss you."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! this is intended to be an ongoing fic, but since i have school &amp; executive dysfunction to boot, updates will most likely be sporadic. i'll do my best to get one out every 2 weeks, but i can't make any promises, especially since the chapters are so long! anyway, thanks for your time, and i look forward to the future of writing this fic!!!</p><p>my twitter is @angehalos</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>